


Do I Need A Reason?

by sickly _sweet (sketchy_and_unformed)



Category: CKY (Band)
Genre: Angst sort of, First Time, M/M, almost character study, almost hurt/comfort, unclear feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-03-08
Updated: 2005-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:41:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26958244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sketchy_and_unformed/pseuds/sickly%20_sweet
Summary: “Deron…when was the last time you slept?”He sighs, pushing his hair back off of his face.“I dunno. You mean properly?”“Like, eight hours, yeah.”Deron jabs the button for black coffee, no sugar, and shoves his hands into his pockets while he waits. “Maybe a week ago?”I stare at him until he concedes, “Or a little longer.”
Relationships: Deron Miller/Jess Margera
Collections: Livejournal reposts: CKY/HIM





	Do I Need A Reason?

“Awesome. Totally awesome.”  
  
Deron simply nods, a self-satisfied smile on his face.  
  
“It is pretty awesome, huh?”  
  
“Are you kidding? Shit, this album’s gonna fucking _kill_ everything else we’ve ever done. Everything _anyone’s_ ever done!”  
  
He grins, slapping me on the back. “I’m glad you think so.”  
  
I start singing the riff to myself and Deron laughs, standing and stretching.  
  
“Time to get out of here. I feel like I’ve been in this studio for years.”  
  
I follow him towards the door. “Maybe if somebody wasn’t such a perfectionist…”  
  
“So you’re telling me that wasn’t worth it?”  
  
He’s staring straight at me with the beginnings of a smirk around his mouth. I try to keep a straight face but I can’t help but grin.  
  
“Alright dude, fair point.”  
  
We’re in the corridor now, and Deron turns.  
  
“Just gonna grab a vending machine coffee.”  
  
I follow him to the machine, leaning against the wall as he fumbles in his pockets for nickels. He drops a bunch on the floor and curses, scrambling around to pick them all back up. It takes him more than one attempt to get them into the slot and I frown, noticing the red rims beneath his eyes for the first time.  
  
“Deron…when was the last time you slept?”  
  
He sighs, pushing his hair back off of his face. “I dunno. You mean properly?”  
  
“Like, eight hours, yeah.”  
  
Deron jabs the button for black coffee, no sugar, and shoves his hands into his pockets while he waits.  
  
“Maybe a week ago?”  
  
I stare at him until he concedes, “Or a little longer.”  
  
He grabs his coffee and I follow him towards the exit. The warm Hawaiian air wafts around us as we leave the building, although the sun went down hours ago. Deron gulps down his coffee, wincing as it burns his mouth. Tossing the Styrofoam cup aside and digging into his pockets again, he pulls out a carton of cigarettes and a book of matches. I raise my eyebrows.  
  
“Dude, what happened to only smoking when you’re drinking?”  
  
“They help calm me down some,” he replies, then adds more quietly, “and who says I haven’t been drinking?”  
  
He puts a cigarette in his mouth and tries to light a match. The first one breaks and he curses. The second one goes the same way after three failed strikes and he tosses it angrily to the ground. Wordlessly I take the matches out of his hand, striking one and cupping the flame. Deron leans in and for a moment our eyes meet before he turns away, blowing out smoke through his nostrils.  
  
I let him take a few drags before I pluck the cigarette from his fingers. He makes a noise of protest but lets me share it with him until it’s burnt down to the filter. Neither of us speaks the whole time, and although it’s not uncharacteristic of Deron to lapse into these silences, I’m still concerned.  
  
“Let me drive you back to the hotel.”  
  
Deron shakes his head. “I’m good, thanks.”  
  
“You’ve been working too hard.”  
  
He smiles and doesn’t deny it, but his eyes stay fixed to the asphalt and I’m struck by how childlike he looks right now. I roll my eyes and jangle my car keys invitingly.  
  
“Come on, Der. The car has air conditioning. And there’s beer back at the hotel.”  
  
Suddenly he’s gripping my shoulders, and his gaze is full on and so intense I blink when faced with it.  
  
“Thanks, man. For coming down here to listen. For noticing. For caring.”  
  
I start to say ‘no problem’ but I’m cut off by his lips pressed roughly against mine. I’m too stunned to move for a second, his hair tickling against my face and his stubble scraping my jaw. This close I can smell the sweat and alcohol from earlier on him, as well as smoke and coffee.  
  
Then it’s gone and he’s back to staring at the ground, not touching me anymore. I raise a hand to wipe my mouth but drop it when I see his cheeks redden, just slightly. Deron never blushes. I blink some more before I speak.  
  
“Why did you do that?”  
  
Deron grimaces in that way that he does when he doesn’t quite know what to say, lips drawn away from his teeth and jaw jutting out. I think he’s just stalling for time. Eventually he shakes his head quickly.  
  
“Do I need a reason?”  
  
I laugh but it sounds unnatural.  
  
“You kinda do, yeah.”  
  
“Well, I don’t have one.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
Deron frowns, eyes still on his scuffed Adio trainers while mine roll skywards, counting stars as I think, about what I’m not entirely sure.  
  
“Dude, seriously, what’s up?”  
  
My voice is quiet, concerned, and it seems to get through to him a little. Deron’s shifting moods and recurring insomnia are a part of who he is, but the drinking and smoking have got me wondering if there isn’t something really wrong this time. That, and the random kiss that I’m honestly trying not to think about.  
  
I have to think about it, though, when it happens again, and this time I surprise myself by kissing back. His arms come up and around me and I have no idea what I’m doing, and I’m not entirely sure that he does either. It’s just as forceful, almost like he’s coercing me into playing along with it, but I could easily push him away if I really wanted to. His eyes are squeezed so tightly shut he must be seeing stars, and it’s then that I have to stop, putting my hands to his chest and breaking away, panting.  
  
“Deron…”  
  
For a moment he looks terrified, then the familiar defiance kicks in and he sets his jaw, standing straighter. Something comes over me and I can’t help but start to laugh.  
  
“Jesus, you really _have_ been working too hard.”  
  
A smile twitches his lips and suddenly it’s just us, Jess and Deron, laughing for no good reason in some random parking lot at two in the morning, and there’s nothing weird about it. In a few seconds we’re doubled over, barely able to breathe past the giggles because it’s just so fucking crazy, and random, and that’s just us. Totally crazy and random as hell. Always.  
  
And when Deron reaches out and touches my face, pleading with his eyes and asking “Will you let me do this?”, I don’t say no. When his mouth is attached to my neck and his hands are fisted in my shirt, it’s still just us. And when those hands move lower, far too low, I stop thinking altogether because it’s crazy and random and fucked up beyond anything, but it’s Deron and somehow that makes it feel better and something that’s okay for us to be doing. Because something about him has always been fucking beautiful beyond compare, but I just never thought it would manifest itself like this.  
  
Letting Deron fuck me against a fire exit, lit by streetlights way after dark, is just another one of those things that happens when you’ve been drinking, I guess. Even though I haven’t. And I’m waiting for my brain to realise that.


End file.
